


Tactician

by Ghost_Chan



Series: Fire Emblem Classes Are Real [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chrobin - Freeform, F/M, Gen, I need a beta, Red String of Fate, With A Twist, classes are a thing, game mechanics in real life, i probably confused a bunch of people with the pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Chan/pseuds/Ghost_Chan
Summary: In the land of Ylisse, every man and woman knew about classes. Your class made you who you were, gave you knowledge, skills, talents that other classes didn't have. There are common classes, and then were Tacticians. A rarity, a myth, they only appear in times of calamity. Chrom always dreamed of meeting one, of fighting alongside one, even though it would probably never happen...





	1. The Tactician I Found

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone has their own idea on how gameplay would transfer into real life, and while normal fighting is the easiest equivalent, I'm inclined to take an approach that was presented in a certain HPXDnD crossover.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Please help me improve by telling me what I can do differently.

In the land of Ylisse, every man and woman knew how battles worked. It was an essential piece of knowledge, something that the highest lord and the lowest servant knew. It was something you needed to know. When in war, your survival depended on it. Although Ylisee and Plegia were no longer at war, bandits, brigades, and rogue units still were a problem. Battles still occurred. Fights still broke out.

It was common knowledge that when a battle began, the area would break down into five-by-five-by-five cubes. How you had ten seconds to consider your action, and that after your turn, you could only dodge and counteract until it was your turn again. There was certain areas that were impossible to cross quickly, like tangleweed or forests, unless your movement speed was great enough to ignore those effects. Weapons that were probable to appear in battle, the “weapons triangle”, and classes. Everyone knew about classes.

Your class made you who you were, gave you access to knowledge, skills, and talents that other classes didn’t have. There were classes better suited to everyday life, and there were classes where fighting was all you could do. Classes that helped people generally, and classes that had unpleasant rumors attached to them. You could change your class through hard work, recruitment, a change of fate, or a calling, but for the most part, your class was your class. No one knew your class except for you, although what you carried usually allowed for a decent guess. The class you had was something to be proud of, and if you didn’t like it, there was little you could do but pray for a chance to change your life.

As prince, Chrom was forced to endure hours of lessons in politics (which he didn’t care for), etiquette (which often went right over his head), literature (only occasionally interesting), and sciences (leave those to the mages). Time he had been forced to sit in the castle was time that he would rather spend training or napping. In short, lessons were boring, and the time could be better spent elsewhere.

Except for lessons on combat, which included information about weapons and forging, historical battles fought and the logistics behind them (those could be slightly dry, though), movement and speed, geography, and of course, classes.

Villagers were the best at farming and wielding scythes. Merchants were jacks of many trades, but masters of none, but out of battle could appraise objects to learn hidden details about them. Clerics healed, having intrinsic knowledge of how the body worked and being able to sense health auras. Members of the thief class, while having a never-ending sea of myths and distrust attached to them, made the best scouts, spies, and could be trusted to act quietly.

And then there was the Tactician class. They were a rarity, a myth, legends, rumored to be able to see the battleground, be aware of all unit’s locations and statistics, and determine the best course of action. While a unit’s class was private knowledge, the Tactician could see everything, including their class. They were the only class to be able to do so. Their versatility and abilities were so great that wars could be shifted by a single Tactician.

As a Lord, Chrom had knowledge of his forces’ statistics and general locations on the battleground, but there were limitations. He couldn’t tell if they were walking into a trap, or an action would put them in range of a dangerous attack. Compared to the Tactician’s seemingly omniscient knowledge, his was severely lacking.

“Tacticians are rare,” his teacher said, “one might show up every two hundred years. They usually show up in times of calamity, when a guiding light is needed.” His teacher scratcher her chin. “There were rumors Plegia had a Tactician when your father waged war against them. That’s how they survived until the exalted, your sister, stopped the war.” But Chrom wasn’t interested in hearing about just Plegian Tacticians.

“What are some other Tacticians?” His teacher hummed, fingering one of the tomes on history thoughtfully.

“When the First Exalt fought Grima, the fell dragon,” Chrom shivered, feeling like a cold nip had passed through the room, “alongside his Pegasus-Queen, it’s said that he had a Tactician alongside him. Although the exploits of the trio were legendary, the knowledge of the First Exalt’s Tactician is blurred, lost to time even more than the Pegasus-Queen and the First Exalt himself. Most agree that after the fell dragon was cast into sleep, he disappeared into the shadows.”

“I see.”

“The Hero-King Marth also,” his teacher had the tome open and was looking down at the page, “was said to have a Tactician, who aided him in his quest to save his sister, though so little is known about that time, it isn’t certain.”

Tacticians fascinated Chrom. When he was dozing, he would meet a mysterious tactician and they would form a band of warriors called the Shepherds, protecting Ylisse from bandits and all sorts of dangers. The tactician would be a friend, an ally, someone Chrom could be himself with. Not a prince, just Chrom. They would sneak out to train together, and go on adventures together. There was nothing they couldn’t do.

Years passed, and some dreams changed, while others became reality. With encouragement from his sister, Chrom began gathering people of different classes and walks of life into a group. People he trusted, who had potential, who had the same desire to protect their land. The Shepherds, who tended Ylisse and watched it’s sheep.

Frederick was the first to join. As his retainer, and one of the greatest Knights in the land, it was only a matter of time before he was promoted to a Great Knight. He served as Chrom’s right-hand man, managing the Shepherds as their numbers slowly grew.

Lissa was an unsurprising addition. Having been classed as a Cleric early on in life, she always hated being cooped up in the castle. Her class was also unsurprising: both Emmeryn and their mother had started as Clerics, and she was always been eager to help. Even more so with her stubborn attitude, her enthusiasm helped keep the Shepherds together.

Vaike was a happy accident. Chrom had run into him, calling him a ‘Barbarian.’ After clarifying that he was a Fighter and one day would be the “Best Damned Warrior Ever,” he declared Chrom his rival and joined the Shepherds that day.

Miriel and Ricken came together. Ricken, he knew, was the son of a once-powerful Mage-family that had fallen into misfortune, but he wasn’t certain of Miriel. A perfectionist, and another Mage, she spoke little of her past, preferring to study the past and whatever she could get her hands on. Ricken, however, went straight into training and was not allowed onto the field. Too young, Frederick had decided, and not ready. Chrom agreed. The boy was barely older than Lissa, and she only went into the field when Frederick or himself were present.

Clerics, and other healing classes for that manner, walked with targets on their backs. In battle, if you took out the healer, the force was crippled. On the streets, if someone thought you might be worth a decent price, you might be scooped up. This was especially true for the Princess of Ylisse.

Sully was another accident. Her application to the Ylissian Knights had gotten mixed up with applications for the Shepherds, and when Frederick had deemed her acceptable for joining the Shepherds, the deal was sealed. Stewing about the mix-up, it took her a while to open up to the other Shepherds. When she did, she shared a story with them about her family. They were descended from a line of Ylissean Knights, and she had been fully excepted to join the cavalry. Instead, she rebelled and attempted to join the palace guard. When news reached her family of her acceptance into the Shepherds, they had roared about it for ages, ribbing her for “taking care of sheep instead of horses.”

Chrom couldn’t remember when Kellam showed up. Neither could Frederick, for that matter, which said something. It was like the Knight had slipped under their gazes without anyone noticing, securing a place with the Shepherds.

Stahl came the most undramatically of them all. The kindhearted Cavalier had applied to the Shepherds after meeting Kellam, easily slipping into the ranks with his good nature and quickly becoming everyone’s favorite with his good cooking.

Sumia was the most recent addition to the Shepherds. She had applied to the Pegasus Knights, hoping for an opportunity to escape from a class that promised spilt blood. When that hadn’t worked out, Chrom had done his best to help her find a place amongst the Shepherds. She joined Ricken in training, though much more hesitantly than the younger male.

They were a small group, but a force to be reckoned with.

Sometimes, Chrom wondered about how classes worked, and why you were born as one class over another. True, there were people who seemed destined to be a certain class, like Frederick being a Knight, but then there were people who didn’t seem to fit. Like Kellam, who seemed to be a better Ninja than a Knight, and Sumia, the shy Knight who seemed more fitting as a Cleric with her caring personality. But your class was your class, and you were in a certain class for a reason.

* * *

“We’ve received a report of brigands near the Farfort and Southtown.” Chrom looking around the dining hall at his Shepherds. “Frederick, Lissa, and I will be going to investigate. We’ll be gone for a week at most.”

“You sure that you three will be enough?” Sully asked, leaning on her spear.

“The report isn’t solid, so it will be a scouting mission only. We’ll engage only if they appear.” Frederick replied, standing at attention by his side.

That had been five days ago; two days of traveling, the other three days scouting the area and talking to locals. The brigands had mostly been spotted around the boarder pass, though suspicious individuals had been spotted further and further inside the halidom. They would need to carry this report back to Emmeryn, and as quickly as possible. With trouble on the north and south-eastern borders, something would need to be done.

The trio was approaching Southtown, cutting through the forest to save time instead of using the road. Frederick was leading his horse instead of riding her. The mare was new to the stables, and Frederick was still training her to different situations. Chrom walked alongside Frederick, while Lissa trailed behind them. The trip had been quiet thus far, almost too quiet. Chrom had one hand near his blades, while Frederick kept a watchful eye out.

“Hold on, Frederick, Chrom! Geez!” Both males turned. Lissa had her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “Would it kill you to take a break?”

“We need to keep moving, Lissa. The longer we wait, the more chance of raids against our land.”

“I know, I know.” She moaned, pushing herself up and joining them as they passed the treeline and entered a grassy clearing. “It’s just, how do you two have so much stamina?!” The Cleric bemoaned, pushing her way through the weeds that were easily as high as her waist. “We’ve been walking for days, and my feet feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“I think your mouth is going to fall off before your feet break off.” Chrom grinned, keeping pace alongside her.

“That’s rich, coming from the Lord who breaks all the Shepherd’s training equipment.” But before Chrom could offer a response, his retainer had come to a halt.

“Milord,” Frederick had his lance in hand, “there is something in the weeds near that rock.” Both Chrom and Lissa halted, Lissa gripping her staff and Chrom placing a hand on Falchion.

“Something? Can you tell what it is?”

“I cannot, milord. I only noticed it because the grass in that area is flatter than the other areas, and it looks like something has passed through here recently.” Chrom paused, testing the air. The land stayed as it was, not shifting into a battleground, so there was no immediate danger, but it could also mean an ambush, which usually lead to a surprise round.

“Stay close.” He drew his blade and moved forward, Lissa directly behind him and Frederick beside him. Ambushes were not uncommon, but no one knew of their coming, so if it was an ambush, it was not intended for Ylisse royalty. But with every step they took, the field remained the same, unchanging as Chrom spotted the patch of land that had caught Frederick’s attention. They reached the edge of the grass, and Chrom braced himself for a possible attack, but instead found.

“A girl?” Chrom lowered from Falchion and stepped forward.

“Please be vigilant, milord. It could be a trap, and perhaps she is bait.”

“But what if she’s hurt, Frederick?” Lissa dashed forward, Chrom behind her. Sighing, Frederick followed, lance at the ready.

It was indeed a human girl, no, woman, curled up on the ground, black and purple robes sprawled around her. While Lissa waved her staff over her, Chrom immediately noticed the sword sticking out from under her. While she was lacking the armor most Myrmidon had, he could not immediately rule out that class. But she didn’t seem to fit as a Thief or Mercenary either. There was something about her, with her odd, foreign-looking dark clothes, that fit into no classes Chrom knew of.

“Her health is full, and there are no unnatural conditions.” Lissa declared, resting her staff in her lap. Frederick shifted nervously, sliding off his horse. “I think she’s just sleeping.”

“But why is she sleeping out here with brigands around? There is something odd about this.” He had sheathed Falchion, running a hand through his hair.

“Milord, those are Plegian robes.” Frederick noted. “Perhaps she is connected to the bandits we came here to investigate.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. We can make assumptions, but we should question her first.”

“Hey!” Lissa shook the woman. “Hey, are you awake?” There was no response. “Chrom, we have to do _something_.”

“What do you propose we do?” He wasn’t a healer. If Lissa didn’t know what to do, then he certainly didn’t.

“I don’t know...something!” That wasn’t very optimistic, coming from a healer, and Chrom hated to admit so, but thankfully a soft moan saved him from answering. The woman was stirring, forehead scrunched up as her eyes opened.

“I see you’re awake now.” Her eyes remained squinting, as if she were trying to adjust to the sunlight. One hand rose, rubbing her face.

“Hey there.” She blinked blearily at Lissa, traces of sleep still in her eyes. Plegian, maybe, but she was still a human being.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” Her eyes swiveled to him. “Give me your hand.” For a long moment, she stared up, unsure of him. Slowly, uncertainly, she offered her hand, allowing him to pull her up.

Blue eyes. That was the first thing that caught his attention. Blue eyes, deep like water, cool like ice, with flecks of steel grey in them. Not as bright as his, but intelligent. The second thing he noticed was her height. Half-a-head shorter than he was, but her head was tilted upward to stare at him. The third thing he noticed was the hand she had offered him. The back was marked with a V-shaped symbol, six eyes branching off to stare in every direction. This last detail was dismissed as the woman removed her hand, raising it to her head.

“You all right?” She had finished her self-inspection and nodded.

“Y-yes. Thank you, Chrom.” He blinked. Someone who recognized the Prince of Ylisse on-face this far out?

“Ah. You know who I am?” He partially hoped she didn’t. Bad enough everyone in the capital knew his face, he usually found obscurity in the outer regions . But she was frowning, staring at him with the upmost concentration.

“No, actually. I...It’s strange. Your name, it just came to me...” Strange indeed. Chrom couldn’t decide whether to believer her or not. He settled on further injury.

“Hmm. How curious. Tell me, what’s your name? What brings you here?” Her eyes brightened.

“My name is...” She trailed off, eyebrows knitting together. Biting her bottom lip, her eyes moved from Chrom to the ground, and back again. “It’s...I don’t know...”

“You don’t know your own name?” Yet she knew his? What was this? Lissa chose that moment to pipe up.

“I’ve heard of this! It’s called amnesia!”

“It’s called a load of Pegasus dung.” Frederick corrected. “We’re to believe you remember milord’s name, but not your own?”

“But it’s the truth!” She didn’t have the look of someone who was lying, Chrom could tell that much. But then...what was there to do? With brigands running around, it wasn’t safe to leave someone alone. Especially a woman (his etiquette instructors would be so proud). However, he was curious as to why a Plegian, or someone wearing their robes, would be in Ylisse. If it was true, and she did not remember anything, then maybe some information could help her remember.

“...what if it is true, Frederick? We can’t just leave her alone here. What sorts of Shepherds would we be?”

“All the same, milord, ‘twould not do to let a wolf into our flock.” Wolf. Plegia. He decided to appease his second-in-command.

“Excuse me-”

“Right then. We’ll take her back into town and sort this out there.”

“Wait just one moment!” She stamped her foot on the ground, hands clenched. “Do I not have a say in this?!”

“Peace, friend.” Chrom placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll hear all you have to say back in town, I promise.” She snorted, resigning herself to her fate, and they began to move forward. All the while, her eyes are moving between them. Considering, planning, intelligent.

“What will you do with me? Am I to be your prisoner?” Chrom had to chuckle at that, resting a hand on Falchoin’s hilt.

“You’ll be free to go once we establish you’re not enemy of Ylisse.” Silence, and he glanced over to see her staring off into the distance, biting her lip with eyes narrowed.

“That is where we are? Ylisse?”

“You’ve never heard of this halidom? Ha!” Frederick snorted. “Someone pay this actress! She plays quite the fool!” The look on her face showed hurt, so Chrom sought to sooth it. There was something that showed Frederick had almost gone too far, too soon.

“Frederick, peace.” Subconsciously, he wondered how he was able to read that from a person he had known for less than a guard’s watch. “This land is known as the Haildom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is the Exalt.” She looked down, mouthing the names, testing them for some form of familiarity, he suspected. “I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom. But then, you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa.”

“I am NOT delicate!!” Lissa huffed, then turned to the woman. “Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick.” She paused, “still can’t remember your name?”

“...no. Still nothing. All of this is strange and new to me.”

“Let’s call you Robin for the time being!”

“Why Robin, Lissa?” His sister could be impulsive, but this was a new one.

“Look at her hairtie!” The woman reached up to her head, feeling something hanging from the string that bound her hair. “See? Robin feathers!” She looked startled, but then smiled.

“...I suppose so.” She looked between the three of them. “Until I can remember my own name, you may call me Robin.”

“No problem! But you’re lucky the Shepherds found you first! Brigands would’ve been a rude awakening!”

“Shepherds?” Blink. “You tend sheep...in full armor.” Chrom snorted. Gods, this woman...

“It’s a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here.”

“A title I wear with pride. Gods allow one of us to keep an appropriate level of caution. I wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise. A Knight must always be prepared.” Robin nodded.

“I understand. I would do no less if I were in your boots.” If she didn’t know Ylisse, then she probably didn’t know Plegia, so she probably wouldn’t understand the full extent of Frederick’s caution.

“As a show of trust, may you tell us what your class is, stranger?” The woman didn’t answer, so Lissa, naturally, filled in the silence.

“I’m a Cleric, and my brother is a Lord, though he doesn’t act like it.”

“Come on, Lissa.”

“Hey, it’s the truth!”

“Cleric? Lord?” Robin repeated, testing the words. “What...does that mean?”

“What do you mean?”

“Chrom! The town!” Lissa screamed, pulling all of their attention away from the confused brunette. Above the treetops, smoke was rising, too dark to be simply wood burning.

“Damn it! Those blasted brigands, no doubt! Quickly!” He pulled Falchoin from his belt, running forward.

“What about her?” Ah, right. Robin.

“Unless she’s on fire as well, it can wait!” The town came first. Then they could worry about Robin and how her lack of memories also extended to her class.

Pushing forward, Chrom stepped into the town, immediately feeling the area change into a battleground. He slashed a bandit, who had cornered a young woman.

“Run!” He commanded, and she nodded, moving as quickly as she could until she escaped the battleground and was able to run freely.

“Chrom, we have to stop them!” Lissa cried, clutching her staff in her hands.

“Don’t worry. After today, these bandits won’t be bothering anyone ever again...” He assured her, scanning what of the battleground he could see. There was rubble everywhere, limiting his vision, but he could only assume the main square was where the worst of the brigands were.

“Wait!” He spun, ready to see the point of a sword, but it was only Robin, sliding across the cobblestone with ease, stopping next to him.

“Robin! Why are you here?”

“Does it matter? I’m armed,” she raised her sword, bronze that was a bit worn, “and I can help. If you’ll have me.” Any help was appreciated at this point. She certainly looked capable.

“Of course. Just stay close!

Frederick plunged into the fray, lance a blur as his horse maneuvered him further and further into the battleground. Chrom trusted the Great Knight, going at a pace that allowed Lissa to keep up with him and finish off any brigands that approached them. Robin was keeping pace with him, her sword joined by a tome. Dark Knights used tomes and swords, but once again, she didn’t feel like a Dark Knight. Whenever a horse approached or the magic from her tome crackled, she would flinch away. Dodge, slash. Estimate where the next one would stop, make sure Lissa wasn’t in danger. Slash, dodge, plan. So caught up was he, that he didn’t notice anything odd until,

“Lissa! Back ten steps!” Chrom spun around, just in time to see a rogue unit slash at the area Lissa had on her last turn. Robin’s tome flashed, firing a bolt of lightning at him, and the damage was enough that when Falchoin struck, the man fell.

“Oh, thank you Robin!” His little sister squeezed Robin’s free arm. “I didn’t even see him there!”

“Sharp eye.” Chrom acknowledged. “Maybe you’re more of an eagle than a robin with those eyes.” But she wasn’t laughing.

“I shouldn’t have seen him.” She confessed. “There was too much in the way. But I did see him. Where he was coming from and how far he would go.”

“That’s impossible, though.” Robin shook her head.

“I can’t explain it...” She paused, gazing off into the distance before gasping. “Two enemies. One in the front, one in the back!”

And Chrom trusted her. “Take the back! I’ll take the front! Lissa, back us up!” No sooner did the words leave him than a bandit appeared from behind a fallen statue. He parried the spear thrust at him, then swung Falchoin for a clean kill. There was a crackle of electricity, and the second bandit was dead.

“Woah, Robin! That was so cool!” Lissa gasped, the entire attack sequence taking less than five seconds. Everyone involved had no hesitation and knew what they were doing. “What sort of skill is that?!” Robin frowned, trying to find an answer, but Chrom answered for her.

“That’s not a skill.” The first time had been shock, something that could be played off. But not this one. The details had been too accurate to be chance. “We can talk later, but Frederick would probably like reinforcements.” He knew roughly where the Great Knight was, but he needed proof. She wasn’t a part of his Shepherds, so she shouldn’t know.

“Yeah! We need to save the town!”

“There’s not many left,” Robin said, eyes glazed, “Maybe four or five, no, five. Frederick...” She probably didn’t notice Chrom watching her. “...yes, he’s near the leader. They’ll be within fighting range soon.” The tome-wielder began moving forward, eyes still seeing something else. Chrom fell into line a step behind her, seeing the smoking tome for himself.

* * *

 

The battle was done. The leader had been killed and the remaining forces had fled. The town mayor had offered to host them, but they needed to keep moving. They had been away from the capital for too long, and this report had to be delivered. Vaike had likely lost half the supply of axes, Sully was probably missing their duels, and Miriel was likely seeking a new supply of materials for her experiments.

Also...Chrom wanted to see what Robin knew. And a town was not the best place for it. Plegian or not, he was curious. She wasn’t like any other fighter he had met before. Was it her class? Or was it something else?

They had been walking for an hour. Frederick, whose arm had been cut open when he engaged the leader, was riding his horse. Lissa was walking alongside him, making sure he didn’t overexert himself as the wound healed with her powers. Robin was lost in thought, and if Chrom had to guess, she was probably pondering what had happened in town. He decided to broach the topic.

“Robin, what do you know about classes?” She looked up, Frederick looked down at him, and Lissa was staring like he had grown a tail, but she could stare.

“Classes?” She thought a moment, then frowned. “Um, what are classes?”

“Pardon my stupid brother.” Lissa said. “It’s what we were talking about earlier. Speaking of, you never told us what class you were.”

“I...don’t understand.”

“Seriously?! I mean, amnesia, sure, but how do you not know your own class?!” Lissa turned from Frederick to Robin. “Geez, Robin!”

“Miriam.”

“Pardon?” Chrom straightened, “what was that?”

“Miriam. My name is Miriam.” There was a new light in her eyes. Excited, but confused at the same time. Always confused, like a child seeing outside of the castle for the first time. “...I just remembered that. How odd. I suppose that’s one mystery solved.” She gave a small laugh.

“Miriam?” Chrom tested the name. “Is that foreign?”

“I’m not certain But...” she smiled, looking up at Chrom with her blue eyes, “it’s a name that belongs to me.”

“Pardon me, milord, but can I speak to you privately?” Frederick said tensely.

“Of course, Frederick.”

“Alrighty, Miriam, now that we’ve figured that out, let’s sit down and we’ll figure out your class while those two are away!” Lissa said cheerfully as Chrom followed Frederick’s horse into the woods for privacy. “You have a tome, so all those brute on the frontline are out, oh, but you also have a sword...”

“Yes, Frederick?” The bluenet asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This woman is clearly ill, milord. Amnesia is one thing, but classes are a part of everyday life-”

“Unless she only remembers in certain situations.” Chrom raised a hand. “Frederick, you weren’t there, but she was seeing the battleground in a way none of us could. She saved Lissa from a rogue, and saw two attackers charging us before their turns began. When we found you, it was because Robin saw exactly where you were, more than I could. I’m willing to bet all the gold in the treasury that she’s a Tactician.” To that, Frederick had nothing to say. Partially because of the absurdity of the statement, partially because it was Chrom, whose interest in Tacticians could border on obsession sometimes. Still, he would follow any order given to him, even if he didn’t like it.

“Whatever you believe, milord. Perhaps milady can help her gain an understanding of what her class is.”

“Right. Although I don’t know if Lissa will have the correct answer, she needs to be informed so she can learn her abilities, whatever they may be, so she can help in the future.”

“You plan to make her a Shepherd.” Even to someone who did not know the Great Knight, the disapproval in Frederick’s voice was clear. “Milord, we know barely anything about her. For all we know, she is an enemy hoping to play into our good graces and strike us when we sleep.”

“I would never make someone do anything against their will.” Chrom countered. “I will extend an invitation to her, which she has the opportunity of declining. Even if she does not join, would we really leave her in the dust to fend for herself? It does not matter if she is really from Plegia or simply picked up the clothes because she had nothing else, no one should be stuck in a situation like that. Honestly, Frederick, do you think that little of me?” Chrom already knew the answer, and had simply tried to lighten the mood.

“My apologies. I am only looking out for you and milady. It would be unwise for something unfortunate to happen because our guard was down.”

“I understand, Frederick. I do. But with all these brigand roaming the land, we might need some extra help. With Miriam,” that was her name, strange and comforting at the same time, like an old nursery story his mother used to read, “here, I can tell that things will turn in our favor.” The Great Knight still looked uncertain, so the Lord reassured him. “Watch, and you won’t regret it.”


	2. The Tactician We Fought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! Thank you for the support and kudos! So, here is the next chapter!

Miriam slid into the ranks of the Shepherds with ease, quickly carving a place for herself and gaining the trust of those around her. She found a companion in Sumia, sharing her love of books, and gained the respect of Miriel with her tactics. Ricken and Lissa looked up to her as an older sister. Sully and Frederick took much longer to warm up to her. Frederick, the ever-present wary guard that he was, had a difficult time warming up to her, even with Chrom’s orders to let her be. And Sully didn’t respect her; Chrom could do nothing about that.

Slowly, though, they accepted her tactics. They all became used to her voice speaking to them from far distances, advising them what to do. They began to trust her.

And Chrom was satisfied. He had been correct that day in Southtown, when he had observed her seeing the battleground in a way he couldn’t, knowing where their enemies stood and how their allies fared. Asking Miriam to be join the Shepherds was the best decision he made so far.

Tacticians were said to bring change with them, and change was certainly happening since she had arrived. Sumia had been able to change her class after finding a pegasus, and they had gained new allies in the forms of Virion, Lon’qu, Donnel, and Maribelle. Neither Chrom nor Frederick had seen the Shepherds performing so well, and injuries were at an all-time low. Though some changes were unwelcome, such as Plegia declaring war on their halidom and the Risen appearing, unfortunate things were bound to happen when a bounty of good luck came to them. But the good certainly outweighed the bad; they were lucky to have her.

And she was a friend to him. The past two months had brought them closer together. They could sit underneath the stars, talking about everything and anything, or one of them would suggest training, and they would do that until one of them collapsed or Frederick found them. He and Miriam just wanted to get stronger. Strong enough to protect those around them. Although the Lord would admit it wasn’t all smooth sailing. With him seeing her as an equal, not just with her strength, but her tactics and sass, he had forgotten she was a woman. He saw her as a friend, and forgot that wasn’t all she was. He hadn’t meant to say that he didn’t think of her as a lady, okay maybe he thought that and it just slipped out, but he certainly didn’t deserve to have rocks thrown at him. Maribelle had refused to heal him when she demanded an explanation, saying that “Perhaps those blows to your head will fix something,” and Lissa just shook her head, calling him “an idiot denser than the average idiot.” Yes, he knew that he had made a mistake, but why would they care?

And then there was the bathing tent incident. Gods, Chrom still wanted to bury his head in the ground and not come out because of that. He had just gotten over mending their friendship from the “not a lady” comment when that happened, and he swore on every god that, no, he had not known it was the women’s bathing tent, and no, he had not heard Miriam’s voice yelling at him. It wasn’t his fault that all of the traveling tents looked the same. Gods! He couldn’t get the incident out of his head! Sometimes, his (treacherous) mind would wander off to other places, and it had become harder to focus around her. She was a friend, for Gods’ sake, and friends shouldn’t think about other friends like that.

She wasn’t the best swordswoman; he was helping her train. Any magic that wasn’t wind often didn’t do what it was supposed to; she had perfect control of any and all wind magic she could cast. She could be stubborn, unyielding; so could he. She had a terrible habit of staying awake into the midnight hours; she wanted to be prepared. Sometimes, she could be as rugged as any of the soldiers; he never saw her hair as a rat’s nest.

 _No, you idiot._ He pushed away from his work, digging his hands into his hair. They would march to Regna Ferox soon, and he had work to finish. _Focus. She’s just a friend. An amazing friend. I couldn’t ask to have anyone better at my side._

_‘...denial...’_

_Right,_ he stood, clipping Falchion to his side, _time to get some air._

* * *

He stood just outside the castle, watching as his units got into position. The moment his forces triggered the battleground, the castle would go into disarray, allowing the units to enter and complete their goals. Now that the young prince was out of commission, killing the Exalt and obtaining the Fire Emblem would be simple. Killing the youngest princess would be drizzling on the pastry, and if the opportunity was presented, he would command his units to take it. It was thanks to the child that he had this information. Although he had made himself scarce recently, he had finished his goal and would be rewarded.

“Begin.” He ordered, and the castle’s interior shifted into a battleground, changed by his force’s hostile desire to kill and plunder. But something was blaringly wrong with this scene. “What?!” There were Ylissian units surrounding the Exalt, set in a tight defensive formation. The castle was supposed to be empty of fighting units at this time... Doubt began to creep into his mind, but he shook it away. It did not matter. The information he had would be his greatest strength, and the Ylisse units would be uncoordinated against him. He would play to their weaknesses; already he could identify two healers, and several units that were easy pickings. Grima’s will would still be fulfilled this night. “Remember, I want the Emblem in my hand and Emmeryn dead on the floor. Let nothing distract you from either purpose.” He spoke to his units, his voice echoing to their minds. From what he could tell, the fighting units gathered here were all connected to a single location. His vision twisted itself over the castle, following the connection threads to where a blue-haired prince stood.

“Tch! Two assassins and the little princeling was not even wounded?” His health was full; not even a single scratch was on him. It had been many moons since he had fought against a Lord; hopefully fighting against lesser commanders hadn’t dulled his instincts. But it would be no matter. Compared to a born Tactician’s omniscient knowledge, a Lord’s was severely lacking. “Wait. Some of these actors do not belong on this stage...” But the princeling wasn’t the only Lord on the battleground. Although she was not connected to the forces around her through a Lord’s strings, the one identified as ‘Marth’ stood strong, unaware of his attempts to bring her under his command. She was rogue unit. But no... he examined her more closely, she wasn’t a true rogue unit. She had connections to the princeling and to...something. His eyes narrowed, trying to see past the veil that was dropped over one of the tiles. It was a dark space, but something, or someone, was blocking his vision. He had only encountered this condition when... “Ho ho! Can it be?!” His vision swept around the dark tile, glee filling him. The likelihood of finding another...no, it had to be her. “After years of searching... Tonight, fate truly piles gifts at my feet!” He had been searching for that insolent child for years, investing countless magic and resources into finding her, and here he found the little bird nesting in a Ylissian castle. This would change things, but he had the advantage in experience. If he could cripple her and retrieve both her and the Emblem, killing the Nagians would be simple. He reached out, to the Assassin he had sent out earlier, and spoke directly into her mind. “There is one I want you to retrieve...”

* * *

It was odd, Chrom decided, seeing the castle halls he grew up in blocked into cubes, a battlefield within his home. But he would rather experience it firsthand than have to deal with the pain of losing Emmeryn.

It was thanks to Marth that they were prepared for this. With Marth watching, Miriam had called out the Shepherds, warning them that the castle was under attack, but they needed to act with caution, as the battleground had not been set. He was grateful for her insight now. If it had been him, he would have gathered everyone quickly, possibly setting off the battleground himself.

“Chrom, please!” He turned to where his sister was standing, Marth by her side. “Flee while you still can! You each have but one life, and I do not wish it weighed against mine!” He sighed. His sister always meant well, and always was so self-sacrificing, but did she not realize what her life meant to him, to Lissa, to their people? Her life weighed more than his.

“Do not worry.” Marth said, her sword glowing and face grim. “Nothing will harm the Exalt. I swear on my life.”

“You’ve proven yourself this far.” Chrom agreed, just as the sound of wings filled the air. He tensed, but it was only a familiar grey pegasus, with an equally familiar rider on her back.

“I’m sorry for being late, Captain!” Sumia cried, her pegasus landing two tiles away from him as her turn ended.

“It’s alright, Sumia. Did something go wrong in town?” She bit her lip, shaking her head vigorously.

“N-No! Of course not! It all went smooth as pie, just I got lost, and you know how that goes!” She giggled nervously, fidgeting with her lance. Chrom brushed it off as worry for the castle being attacked. “I’m ready to fight! I’ll be waiting for my turn!”

“Understood.” The Pegasus Knight prepared her lance, and Chrom turned to the Tactician at his side. “What does it look like, Miriam?” The woman was staring at a wall, the distant look she usually wore when observing the battleground mixed with fear.

“Chrom.” Miriam reached out, and he allowed her to grasp his arm to steady himself. Her eyebrows were knit together, sweat breaking out on her forehead.

“What is it?”

“There’s someone here that I can’t identify.”

“What?”

“I know they are here, and where they are, but I can’t tell anything about them.” Her focus returned to them, and she met his eyes. Terror filled her icy blue orbs. “I...I can’t see anything.”

Since the first battle she had participated in, Miriam had slowly become used to seeing the battleground in its entirety. Although it was strange for her sight to leave her body and survey the battleground, seeing how far an enemy could travel and locating traps that might be hidden, she had adapted, trusting her ‘gift’ to keep her comrades safe, while Chrom and the others kept her safe. Just because she could see everything didn’t mean she noticed everything. An enemy could easily sneak up on her when her vision was elsewhere, but by pairing up, she had someone to watch her back. She had this gift to help save lives, and she would rather be damned than let it go to waste.

But now, suddenly having a dark spot in her vision scared her. There was something there, something that was blocked from her sight, but no matter how hard she concentrated, it stayed empty. Whatever it was sent shivers up and down her spine.

“You know where it is?” She nodded. Even though the enemies was moving, the void stayed in one spot, almost like it was considering her like she was it. “Good. If you can keep an eye on it, we can investigate.”

“But what if it vanishes?” That was what frightened her most. Everyone else was used to seeing the battleground like how she would see the land when not engaged in battle, but this one anomaly frightened her. She knew where it was, but what if it completely disappeared? Then what? It could slip around, striking her comrades and friends, and she would be powerless to stop it.

“If that happens, we’ll just have to figure something else.” Her focus returned from the battleground to the Lord beside her. “We work best when we work together. Remember the arena?”

“I remember that you almost killed yourself by charging at Marth alone.” The female Lord was watching the exchange with...amusement? “But...yes, I understand.” She nodded, noticing how the dark spot had not moved, and slipped into a different tile, breaking their pairing. “Donny and I will stay here with Marth. Vaike is in the room next to us. He’ll probably want some assistance.” She frowned, but seemed more at ease now, Chrom noticed. “The first wave is almost here.”

* * *

This was not what Gaius signed up for.

He had signed up for a chance to plunder a royal castle, steal some good stuff, maybe stop by the kitchen, and then get the hell out of there.

He had not signed up to go onto a battleground. He had not signed up to kill a woman who just wanted to reverse what her war-monger father had done. And he certainly didn’t sign up to have a voice in his head.

Gaius groaned, watching what he could of the battleground from his position in the shadows. Whatever skill their leader, Old Skelly, had freaked him out. He’d never heard of any skill that allowed someone to talk in his head, and it didn’t feel right. It felt intrusive, like his thoughts were no longer his own. He’d been warned of it by some of the Fighters, but had almost dropped his sword when the phantom voice first spoke to him. Telling him where to move, like he was some sort of piece of a board. It irked him. Popping some rock candy (it was the best he could afford, unfortunately) into his mouth, he watched as one of the Cavaliers he was allied with rode past, barely noticing him.

 _“Move along the wall,”_ Gaius nearly spit out the candy, _“and you will find a hidden passage that will bring you close to the treasure vault. Enter it, and remain there until it is your turn again.”_

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, following the orders, and when his turn ended, the phantom presence moved away. “How do this guy’s regulars handle this?” It was dark in the passage. Dark and as peaceful as a battleground could get, and he didn’t have to see the battle going on outside, even though the sound of metal on metal and horse’s hooves still reached his ears. He shut his eyes, and was in a different place. In that place, he could walk into a shop, scoop up candy into his sack, and walk back out, and everyone would be fine with that. Where he was able to snack on sweets all day; not just rock candy, but real sweets, made of honey, and sugar, or maybe even chocolate, a treat he had only tasted once.

_“Continue forward, and you’ll find yourself near your objective.”_

“Damn. Why’d you have to wake me up?” He grumbled into the open spaces before him. He would have been more than happy to let his ten seconds pass by.

 _“Do not forget your objective, Thief._ ” _Shit._ Old Skelly could hear him? This was getting weirder and weirder, and honestly, Gauis would rather just sit here in the dark and dream of sweets, but the Skeleton probably wouldn’t let him. Just bust the vault and get out. Moving forward, he exited the hidden passage (how did the guy even know about it?), emerging into a relatively untouched corridor. His objective was clear to see, and Gaius sucked on his candy, fingering the picking tools at his side.

Only he didn’t expect to see a man, blue hair, cape, huh-brand of the Exalt, enter the corridor, with what looked to be a Fighter behind him, and stop by his square. Welp, that was the prince, and Gauis was probably dead.

“Drop your weapon, or die where you stand!” Gauis swallowed the last of his candy, raising his hands. Damn. The voice had dumped him here and was now gone again.

“Easy there, blue blood. I'm not here to hurt anyone.”

“...Yet you run with a band of assassins?” Yeah, Gauis couldn’t blame him for that assumption.

“Believe it or not, just trying to make a living. I'm a Thief, see?” Recognition came into blue eyes. “You know, bust open doors, crack into chests... that kind of thing.”

“Right, I know what a Thief does.” _You’d have to be dumb and stupid to not know what we do._ But Gaius took pride in his class, even though many made them out to be chaotic individuals who only did evil. True, they were usually impulsive and obsessive, but they were also dedicated, eager to learn and adapt, and willing to take risks, and had their own morals, something one wouldn’t associate with Theives. There were certain things Gaius wouldn’t do, no matter what he was paid.

“So anyway, this lot said they wanted to break into some kind of vault. Nobody said anything about murder.” He shrugged. “I'd just as soon sit this one out.” Honestly, he wasn’t expecting anything to come out of this. He just decided to voice his thoughts so he’d have no regrets when the guy’s sword decided to make itself a new home in his gut. That was the worst thing about rounds. Not knowing if the next opponent who approached you had the means to kill you, and if they would go for you or not. Now, Gauis wasn’t any tacticianer or the smartie-pants type, but he could tell that the prince could probably take him out in a heartbeat, and the other guy was no pushover either. The man before him tilted his head, considering him.

“Then perhaps you'd be willing to prove your good intentions?” Of all the things he could have heard, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Beg pardon?”

“We need all the help we can get to save the Exalt's life. This battle isn’t our easiest, and you appear capable.”

“Oh, right, good intentions. Fine then, I'll prove my sincerity...” they didn’t look like they were going to off him now, but if he could, he would really like to get something out of this, besides keeping his life, “if you sweeten the deal.”

“You want gold?” The bluenet rolled his eyes at Gaiu’s shit-eating grin. “...Fine, you scoundrel. Let me just-oops.” He had reached for his belt, but a small bag tumbled out of his coat pocket. The Thief’s eyes zeroed in on it.

“Looks like you dropped something. What's in there, mmm?” Something he could investigate later, maybe? There was nothing more satisfying than investigating something unknown.

“Nothing.” He tugged it open, looking in. “Candies from my little sister. I'm sure you-”

 _“He’s standing right in front of you! Kill him!”_ Damn. Old Skelly was back. Gauis ignored him in favor of the opportunity before him.

“Candies? As in, sugar candies? Sweet candies?”

“Well... yes. I assume they'd be sweet? But-”

_“What are you doing?!”_

“IT'S A DEAL!”

“...You'll risk your life if I give you... a bag of candy?”

_“What?! Don’t you dare! He’s right there! Kill him, while his guard is down, and you’ll be rewarded!”_

_Oh, bugger off._ Gaius grumbled. “I said "sweeten the deal", didn't I? Don't get me wrong, I'll take the gold, too. Later. Unless you've got more of those.” He eyed the prince. “...Have you got more of those?”

“Um... I can ask.” The man was approaching, Gaius ignoring the screams of _“KILL THE PRINCELING!”_ in his head as a gloved hand entered his tile. “Do we have a deal?”

“You betcha!” He snatched the candies with one hand, his other hand grasping the prince’s. Gauis tugged open the bag, shaking a few candies into his palm. Damn, these looked good. Popping them into his mouth, he grinned, stashing the bag away for later. _Good times usually accompany good food_. Things were looking up. Blinking, he noticed something else. The old guy’s voice was no longer in his head. It was silent, and his thoughts were his own. “Sweet!”

“So what’s your purpose here? I thought that killing the Exalt was the only goal.”

“He brought us in to grab some treasure while everyone was running around like headless chickens.” Gaius shrugged. “Some sort of shield, but we didn’t get the specifics. I’m not the only Thief here, by the way. There are also a ton of Assassins and others who just want to kill the Exalt”

“Understood.” He looked grim, “we’ll be staying here, then. What do you think?”

“Me? Who cares? Do whatever you want.” But the man, who Gauis decided would be “Blue” from now on, was ignoring him, staring at a wall. The other man, a Fighter with an axe in his hand, joined them, snickering.

“Don’t freak. It caught us all off-guard the first time, even the Teach.”

“Pardon?”

“Got it.” Blue said, nodding to himself.

 _“Hello?”_ An uncertain voice, certainly not his own-it was too feminine-echoed from the depth of his mind, faint like a whisper. _“Can you hear me?_ ”

“Well shit.” He had a new voice in his head.

* * *

He sucked in his breath, blood roaring though his veins. That...DAMN THIEF!! His teeth gnashed together, magic crackling at his fingertips. He wanted to destroy something, but had to settle for watching his units charge through the castle. There were times like these when he missed being on the frontlines, watching his opponent’s health fade into nothing under his magic as his own health was restored.

He’d never experienced having a unit defect away. One moment, he was yelling at the fool to cut down the princeling where he stood, then the next moment it felt like he was screaming into a void, where only his voice bounced back.

Once the primary goals were completed, he could have an Assassin take down the traitor. His units were beginning to engage the Ylissian forces again, and he tugged them, directed them, to where they needed to be. He watched triumphantly as a Fighter knocked a Troubadour off her horse, then growled as a Cavalier grabbed the downed unit, swinging her onto her horse and setting his Fighter unit on guard. The little bird was matching him move for move, and they were at a stalemate.

But not for long. The pair he had sent off earlier were making their way along the perimeter, keeping out of the fighting, drawing as little attention as possible. Soon, they would reach the fledgling, throwing the Ylissian forces off-balance. And then the Exalt would be next.

* * *

_“Chrom?”_ Miriam’s voice echoed in his head, and he stood straighter, aware of the fighter that would engage he and Vaike in a turn or two. Gaius was standing next to the wall, sword drawn and sucking on some of the candies Chrom had given him.

“That our Tac?” Chrom sent his partner a look, imagining Miriam’s face. They had discovered that focusing on key features of each would help strengthen the connection. The bonds between the Shepherds and their Tactician were strong.

“I’m here.”

 _“There’s another dark spot.”_ Chrom frowned. This was worrying.

“Where is it?”

 _“Nowhere close.”_ That could mean a variety of things, but Chrom understood what she meant. It wasn’t an immediate threat.

“What’s it doing?

 _“Nothing...”_ Miriam paused, most likely looking elsewhere. _“It’s hovering on the edge of the battleground, almost like...it’s observing us.”_

“Observing? For what?” His frown grew deeper.

 _“I’m not certain. Oh, hold on.”_ Their connected became muted, and he could vaguely hear her speaking to someone-Ricken?- then reconnecting, _“Also, the first spot hasn’t moved one tile since I noticed them, and I’m-”_ Miriam let out a shriek, before cutting out from his mind.

“Miriam?” He asked the empty air, reaching through the Lord bonds for his Tactician, but she was nowhere near Marth, Donnel, or Emmeryn. “Miriam?!”

* * *

“Chrom?” Miriam said to what appeared to be thin air, but any Shepherd who saw her knew that she was communicating with one of the others. “There is another dark spot.”

_“Where is it?”_

“Nowhere close.”

_“What’s it doing?_

“Nothing...” But it wasn’t the same as the other one. Instead of being afraid, Miriam was simply curious. Whatever this was, it didn’t put out the same dangerous aura as the first void. “It’s hovering on the edge of the battleground, almost like...it’s observing us.”

_“Observing? For what?”_

“I’m not certain.” Something flickered near the edge of her vision. “Oh, hold on.” Miriam pulled away from Chrom, connecting with Ricken. It was harder to connect to the young Mage than with Chrom, but their bonds were still strong. “Ricken, could you please move left? Lon’qu will need some support against a Mage that’s coming towards him.”

 _“You got it, Miriam!”_ She nodded, checking around Emmeryn for a moment before checking the two dark areas. The newer one had shifted slightly, but the first still had not moved. She connected to Chrom again with ease. “Also, the first spot hasn’t moved one tile since I noticed them, and I’m-”

“Miriam!” The Tactician’s attention was ripped away, just something pulled her out of the tile she was standing in, into the arms of a dark robed man.

She heard Marth yell before the scenery changed, and she found herself tumbling to the ground, sword clattering to the side. Pushing herself up, she met the edge of a sword, eyes following up the blade to a black-haired Assassin (53), who stood on the edge of her tile. Paired with her was Mage (47), who released the ruined shreds of tome paper from his hands. They were so much stronger than the Shepherd’s average of (45).

“Good work.” Her head snapped up, seeing a dark-skinned man standing a few tiles away. The Mage bowed, but the Assassin remained standing, keeping the blade pointed at her. This was not good. From what she could tell, it was a pair-up, something she had been encouraging the Shepherds to use. The change in locations (she had been standing in the heart of the castle, and now stood in the outer walls) was most likely due to the Mage, and whatever magic he had. If Miriam had to guess, it was a movement spell similar to how a rescue staff worked, but Miriel or Maribelle would be better at recognizing that. She could do nothing with the blade pointed at her, and couldn’t risk opening a connection to anyone, lest she be distracted. And then there was the dark-skinned man. Even though he was in her line of sight, she could see nothing about him. She could guess that he was some kind of magic user, based on the tome in his hand, but other than that, there was nothing. _Him._ Her eyes widened. _God, it’s him. He’s the dark spot that I can’t see!_ But there was nothing special about him, aside from the crown on his head. _An item that channels magic to block someone from seeing them? But why? And if it truly blocked sight, shouldn’t he be invisible?_

Her ten seconds came, and she slowly rose, keeping an eye on all three enemy units, reaching for tome, but found it’s pouch empty. _God, this isn’t good._ Her sword was somewhere behind her. And her ten seconds passed. Then it was their turn. But instead of attacking her, they looked at the man.

“Return and finish the job.” Both bowed, and the Assassin grasped the arm of the man. They disappeared, leaving Miriam with the dark skinned man.

“An Assassin to enter an opponent’s tile, and a Mage to avoid a counterattack.” Miriam said slowly, carefully.

“Well done.” The man laughed. “Such intelligence. I expect nothing less of you.”

“What...what do you mean?”

“What? Well, well...” He crackled. “Oh, I know you...”

“You know me?” She could never imagine allying herself with a man like this, who sought to destroy the peace. She had amnesia, not a condition that changed who she was. “I doubt that!”

“Do you? I suppose there are many things you do not understand.”

“That is true.” Bluff, buy for time. “How about explaining how you can hide yourself on the battleground?” Miriam challenged, looking around as if examining the surroundings, locating her sword four tiles back. Her round was coming up, and as much as she didn’t want to prompt an opportunity attack, she didn’t want to be unarmed if attacked. “Or why you grabbed me of all people to drag all the way to the edge of the battleground? I’m no one.”

“You know nothing, do you?” The man crackled. “However, I cannot fault you. We Tacticians are so rare, most never discover our blind spot.”

“Tacticians?”

“Oh, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg.” She had to keep his focus on her, and not on the battleground. She had to ignore the cold sweeping through her. The Shepherds were used to working without a Tactician, but if this man _was_ a Tactician, then his forces might not be used to working on their own. “Come with me, and you’ll be able to follow your destiny!”

It was her turn. “Never!” She leapt backwards, snatching up her sword and standing upright. She had been training with Chrom when not studying or practicing magic with Ricken. Now was the time to see if it had paid off, if she was given the chance. Magic-vs-sword duels were less common, and she subconsciously added it to her to-try list. Should she survive tonight. She had to survive.

“My dear, we have all the time in the world.” He laughed, obviously waiting for his turn. “The Exalt will be dead, the Fire Emblem will be in my hands, and the princeling will never see another day.”

“You won’t touch him!!” She screamed. She would not let anything happen to the man who had given her a place, a purpose. He was a good man, a man she would follow to the end of the world if he asked her to. A bit impulsive at times, but her leader. Someone who treated her the same as everyone, even though she had no title, no history, no bonds to start with. Someone who stood for what was right, whose life was worth double hers.

“Ah, so you care for the prince. How touching. It’s almost like...” he paused, thinking for a moment before smirking, raising a hand, “a fairy’s tale.” A bolt of lightning crackled, and Miriam dodged, but just barely.

“Your plan failed, did you know that?” Keep him talking. Keep his focus off of the others, off of Emmeryn, Chrom, and Lissa. “It failed when the Assassins couldn’t kill Chrom, and Marth arrived. You think a Lord would just fall down?” Keep talking about Chrom, keep talking about Marth. _As Lords, they can find me._ Give them something to latch onto, keep the blade angled at him. “You’ve lost.” It was her turn, and she moved as far as she could. _Buy for time. Engage him only if necessary. I don’t know what his movement speed is, and how fast I can run before he fires off an attack. His range is greater than anything I’ve ever seen_

“It is inconvenient that the princeling did not die when he was supposed to, but no one can escape their destinies. You will learn this.” He smirked at her, approaching and sending another blast of lightning at her, which she dodged. Their turns were coming sooner and sooner. The others were finishing their battles. “I will act as the bringer of a new world, the leader of the world where Lord Grima reigns, and you will help me.”

“And the Shepherds are strong. They will protect Ylisse, and everyone who seeks peace! You,” she pointed her sword at him, “you are no leader!”

“I see now there is too much you do not understand.” The man considered her. “But I suppose there will be time for enlightenment later.” The bolt of lightning came faster than she could dodge, so she raised her sword. The attack exploded on her blade, electricity coursing through her body.

“Wh-what?” Miriam tried moving, but couldn’t. Her body was paralyzed, locked into place.

“Such as different applications for magic.” The man smirked. “Your mother didn’t teach you very much, did she?”

“M-mother? You know...” A gleam came into the man’s eyes, a gleam that Miriam didn’t like at all.

“Submit to me, and perhaps I might honor you with the truth!”

Her turn came, and Miriam continued to strain her muscles, pushing against the electricity that locked her in place. _No, no, no!_ Her fingers twitched, breaking off the spell bit by bit. _Not like this! I won’t go down like this!_ She was not so weak that she couldn’t fling off a spell. The paralysis broke, and she stumbled, colliding with the barrier the blocked her from entering a tile when it wasn’t her turn. Disoriented, she gathered all the threads she could at once, reaching out to anyone she could.

“I’m here!” A crowd of voices, calling out to her. “Out in the courtyard!”

“Ah, we can’t have that, my dear.” Dark energy surrounded her, sapping away her strength. The world swayed.

_“Hold on, I'm coming!”_

Was her drained state making her hear things? But one thing was certain. She was strong, and wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Back...off!” She broke away, swinging her sword in a wide arch, breaking the spell. _Breathe. Collect yourself._

“Miriam!” Chrom was across the courtyard, Falchion drawn. “You’ll pay for this!” Dark blue eyes flickered between Miriam and the strange man. The Tactician was shaking her head, eyes wide. She was tired, drained, but otherwise okay. Chrom ran towards her, trying to move as far as his movement speed allowed before his turn ended.

“No.” Miriam gasped. “No! Chrom! Stop!” But he didn’t, and moved into the man’s predicted spellcasting range. “No...”

“How pleasant of you to join us, little prince.” The man sneered.

“Get ready!” It was her turn, so she did her best to move around the nameless Tactician without trigger an opportunity attack. “Don’t let the lightning strike you!”

“Insolence!” The man snapped, switching tomes and targets, moving to attack Chrom with a dark sphere. His body jerked, health halved with one attack. She flinched, unable to do anything, but he remained upright.

“Miriam, let’s go!” Shaking off the attack, Chrom moved across the courtyard, meeting her halfway. She crossed over the tiles, entering his space and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I'll cover you.” The dark-skinned man ground his teeth, preparing another attack, but Miriam saw it coming.

“Predictable!” She yelled, shoving Chrom out of the way and deflecting the dark orb with her sword. It exploded against her blade, wisps of dark energy sliding off her coat.

“On my mark!” Miriam readied her blade.

“I’ll cover you!” As one, they moved forward, their combined movement speed allowing them to reach their opponent. He dodged Chrom’s attack, but not Miriam’s. Snarling, he flung a bolt of lightning at Chrom, but Miriam took the blow, unable to deflect it. She gasped, sword clattering to the ground.

“Now I’m angry!” The Lord yelled, Falchion glowing blue, opening the man’s chest with a single strike.

“No...” His tome dropped to the ground, hand reaching for Miriam. “This is... all wrong... How could... you have known...the plan...” He slumped forward, collapsing in a heap, and Miriam saw the previously dark tile return to normal.

“Miriam!” Falchion clattered to the ground, and he knelt beside the grounded Tactician.

“I’m fine, Chrom.” She reassured him, quickly scanning him for injuries. Aside from the attack the now-dead man had dealt him, he was relatively unharmed. “I’m...fine, now.” She sighed in relief, but before she could check the battleground for any remaining opponents, they both felt the battleground disappearing, returning the castle to normal. All hostile enemies had been defeated.

And...whatever the other dark spot was, it had vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Validar a Tactician. It was referenced in the last chapter, if you noticed. The first time I played Awakening and he "saw pieces that didn't belong," the first thing that popped into my mind was 'Oh, he's a Tactician as well?' then I saw that he was a Sorcerer and was disappointed. This seems more fun, in my opinion.  
> Also, Archers and Spellcasters have a longer range in this universe. 10-15 feet (2-3 tiles) seemed ridiculous for an archer, because you'd have to be the WORST to miss at 10 feet (or have a really bad bow, but that's besides the point). Some DMs even give you disadvantage in DnD if you shoot at less than your normal range, so I bumped it up (a lot).  
> Also, digital cookies for those who catch the references.

**Author's Note:**

> to be continued...


End file.
